


"Brushing his Hair"

by redhairedrobin



Category: The Mousetrap - Christie
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, and a hair kink, chris has a police kink, thanks for that autumn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 09:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6189526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhairedrobin/pseuds/redhairedrobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris, you disgusting little man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Brushing his Hair"

Chris had been minding his own business in the drawing room. He was reading and he had finally seemed to escape from that woman, Mrs. Boyle. But, of course, this moment of peace would not last. He could hear something outside. It sounded like… skis? Was someone skiing? He put his book down and inched towards the window. He had nearly reached it when a man covered in snow and with an extremely determined expression skied by. Chris was so taken back by this, he almost didn’t notice how attractive the man was. Chris watched him until he rounded the corner towards the living room. He paused for a moment and tried to gather his thoughts. After a moment, Chris whirled from the window and flung the drawing room door open.

“Who’s that man? Where did he come from?”

 

“Now, Mr. Ralston, if I might look around the house?” Sergeant Trotter spoke as he left the living room. Chris leaped up in excitement. He had been squirming in his seat the whole time the Sergeant had been explaining about the Longridge farm case. Chris had hardly paid attention to the details, except for the part about murder, of course. But he had been more focused on the Sergeant. Focused on that stupid hair twirl that should not be so adorable. And on his determination and passion. Chris could only imagine how wonderful those traits could be if steered in a… different direction.

Chris grinned at the faces of his fellow guests. Particularly the disgusted face of Mrs. Boyle. He darted from the room and up the back stairs to his bedroom. He flung the door up and scrambled inside.

A policeman! Here, in this guesthouse of all places. Chris sat on the edge of his bed, twisting his fingers together. Then in the sheets. And then in his hair. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Well, no, he knew exactly what to do with himself, but not here. He can’t do that here.

“Oh, never- damn it,” Chris cursed softly as he took his bow tie off and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He dragged his fingers through his hair and tried not imagine that the Sergeant was here with him. Chris bit his lip in hope the pain would get his mind off Sergeant Trotter, but that only backfired. Would the Sergeant bite Chris’ lip if he kissed him? Or would the Sergeant bite his lip when he…? Chris sighed heavily and rolled up his left sleeve. He laid back on the bed and gave into his imagination.

Chris imagined that Trotter was there with him. That Trotter was kissing him. And pinning him down. Chris felt himself twitch at the thought of that. He undid his belt buckle and the clasp on his trousers and slipped his hand into his pants. He left out a small groan when he felt himself. He imagined that the Sergeant would chuckle at the little breathy moans he made as he stroked. He imagined the Sergeant would gather Chris’ hands by the wrist and pin them over his head with one slim hand. Trotter would slip his other hand into Chris’ pants. Or he would slip his hand into the short hairs on the back of Chris’ neck and pull one them as he fucked him. Chris moaned particularly loudly at the thought of that. He turned his head and tried to bite down on the pillow to muffle the needy sounds he was making.

And that exposed his neck. He thought of Trotter’s mouth on his neck and there were not enough pillows in the world to stifle his moan. His breathing was heavy and was permeated with moans and whines and breathy, little gasps. He arched off the bed in pleasure. He could practically hear Trotter chiding him and feel Trotter pinning him back down.

Chris came into his hand with a particularly loud moan. He pulled his hand out of his trousers and lay on his back. He was panting and grinning like a fool. Like Trotter was there with him. He turned his face back into the pillow and nuzzled it in his post-orgasmic haze.

That was when he heard her scream. It sounded like Mollie. He jumped up; the scream had violently brought him back to reality. He blushed as he clean himself up and redid his belt buckle and trouser clasp. He didn’t bother to organize himself any more than that before he sprinted down the back stairs and into the living room.


End file.
